


The Melancholy of Hanzo Shimada

by LilyRosetheDreamer



Series: Journey [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, but he's getting there, hanzo has a hard time making friends, yeah the title was taken from Haruhi Suzumiya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 02:57:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7996030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyRosetheDreamer/pseuds/LilyRosetheDreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything about Hanzo Shimada is lifeless and boring - it's a wonder Overwatch accepted him at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Melancholy of Hanzo Shimada

**Author's Note:**

> This happened to stumble into my head and it won’t let me be until I write this down, so yeah. I would say this takes place a little bit in the middle of Vitality, during Hanzo’s first year in OW. Thanks for reading!

Hanzo is. He’s a whole being, wrapped up in a thin shell and warped until the reflection in the mirror makes him look away with no air in his lungs. He’s an assassin and an archer, the former heir to the Shimada Clan and murderer. When he’s on the battlefield, his dragons sing bright and blue and nobody quite knows where he’s going to be next.

But under that?

God, what IS there to Hanzo Shimada?

He’s predictable, he’s bland - no flavour to him whatsoever. Hanzo dances the same beat on broken puppet strings and sings the same worn out song about honour and redemption and death and he’s so -

_“Boring,”_

_Hanzo looks up shyly, his hands properly situated on his knees with the respect his papa taught him. He’s six and the boy across from him is seven, the son of a wealthy associate of his father’s. Hanzo is already an isolated, prim little boy and he’s home-schooled, separated from the common children who pass his family’s estate with scuffed shoes and bright smiles as they race with each other. Hanzo’s never played with any other children apart from Genji (even though playing wastes valuable teaching time, he must remember that) and this is the first time someone nearer his age has been instructed to play with him._

_“P-Pardon?”  
_

_“This is really boring!” Kyo complains, his hands dragging through gravel and his legs kicking in the air. “Don’t you do anything apart from do school stuff?”  
_

_Hanzo opens his mouth to say that he does, but then freezes stupidly because no, he can’t think of anything really._

_“I like to write,” he offers eventually, biting his lip at the scornful look that passes over Kyo’s face.  
_

_“You’re so boring,”  
_

_Hanzo lowers his head and doesn’t bother to stand up for himself._

* * *

If Hanzo could fight in an endless war, being shopped from Point A to Point B and moving through the same routine like moving through molten glass, he would most likely take it. He’s mired in restriction and watching the world from the other side of the glass house he’s constructed for himself, sealed with an extra outer wall of stone, just to be sure. The reality is so overwhelming and Hanzo has long forgotten any tidbits of knowledge he might have scrounged up about social interaction. 

It’s so much easier to just…hide - to push away and to believe that he’s above such foolishness. After all, what redeeming qualities does he really have anyway? Joining Overwatch gives him a little bit of hope for redemption and a comforting routine, even if he has to share it with the same cyborg who claims to be his brother.

He followed him because he’s not very good at deciding things for himself and better at following hints and orders.

(He doesn’t think about the tug of longing and guilt and burden that trailed from Genji all the way to Overwatch Gibraltar like a muddy string, a cord that he followed like a shaking child.)

But Overwatch too has people who are colourful and full of vibrant flavours and sounds. They overshadow his grey and navy blue and Hanzo finds himself off guard, off center. 

He won’t show it. He mustn’t.

“Hey Hanzo! You wanna sit with us and chill to some tunes and games?”

A cheeky laugh from Hana Song.

“Ugh, don’t bother, Lucio! He’s so -!”

_Boring._

_Hanzo’s cold and boring. He hears the derision in Genji’s voice as he sits at his low table, dipping his brush into watercolour and blocking out his younger brother and his boisterous friends._

_“Aw, c’mon Genji!” chuckles a reply. “He can’t be that bad! And being heir to a whole family must be hard, right?”  
_

_“You’d think being heir to a whole family would mean that he knew how to let loose a little! But Jesus, did you know he’s still a virgin? And he’s what, eighteen?”  
_

_A round of laughter echoes as Hanzo’s cheeks flood with red. They shouldn’t be saying such things - how impudent. How disrespectful._

_“And all he ever talks about is “honour, Genji” and “do your training exercises,  Genji”! As if I need to do some of that shit already,” Genji’s clearly pouting at this point. “Hanzo’s fucking perfect and he knows it. He can be such a stuck-up prick,”  
_

_Hanzo’s hand has stopped moving and there’s grey watercolour dripping in splotches on the white paper._

_It’s not his fault he listens to his elders and does his duty._

_…It’s not his fault._

* * *

Genji’s trying to get him to come down to spend some down time with the team again. They’re going out somewhere and Hanzo can’t stop thinking about what if and what would be a good conversation starter? Does he know about ANYTHING that isn’t his craft or honour?

“No,” he says, his eyes averted to the window. “I would rather do something productive, like practice.”

“Brother,” Genji replies gently, so different to how he used to whine when Hanzo didn’t do what he wanted. “It’s alright. You don’t have to say anything at all if you don’t want to. Having you there would be nice,”

Nice. 

Bland.

Boring.

He isn’t worth the trouble.

Hanzo’s dark eyes shift about erratically, trying to think of any excuse to get out of this. But Genji’s got a hand on his bare arm, a kind grounding force and perhaps…

Perhaps he can do it correctly this time. Maybe he can break out of his shell. He has promised himself redemption; between the grueling regime he’s been putting himself through and the nightmares that plague him, a break may be needed.

“…Very well,” he sighs and he can tell that Genji is actually surprised. 

It appears that the group is equally surprised when Genji rejoins them, Hanzo trailing after him like his shadow. He will be as inconsequential as one soon enough anyway, so he may as well stick to someone he knows.

“Hello Hanzo,”

Mercy, the doctor who welcomed him when he first stepped through the doors, despite being the one who saved Genji from Hanzo’s savage wrath beforehand. She does live up to her name.

“Hello,” he responds, his body stiff and his tongue formal.

There is a small silence as they walk behind the group and Hanzo’s already feeling his lungs shrink. This is an awkward silence and she will find him to be unwelcome company; he must think. THINK.

“It is nice weather for an outing,” he comments quietly and lets his shoulders slump. 

“It is,” she answers cheerfully and perks up at hearing her name being called. “I apologise, I have to go and see what they want. You know how they are - always wanting to chat,” she continues with a delicate laugh and Hanzo watches her hurry on a bit, smiling brightly as D.Va and Junkrat engage her in fast-paced conversation. 

This is a mistake. He shouldn’t be here. 

His feet start to slow as he falls further behind, looking for the first opportunity to pull himself up on to a roof and flee so he can work on pushing down his numbness and panic alone. He’s too open with no weapon and that thought is rolling in his gut and sending hot acid into his throat.

“Hey, Hanzo!”

Hanzo tears his gaze up from the pavement, realising that he’s stopped completely.  

“Come and see this!” calls Mei in delight, standing slightly outside the others crowding round a shop window. 

He hesitates, then patters over to her. 

“Look, kittens!” she coos and Lucio moves a little to let him have a peek. 

He catches a glimpse of white fur and hears snatches of squeaking before he steps back to have breathing space (he doesn’t want to be touched right now, if ever). Despite this, he can’t resist moving forward when everyone moves on and pressing his hand against the cool window, smiling softly when the kittens pat and mewl. 

_“He’s such a quiet boy,”_

_“Too quiet, if yer ask me,” mutters a reply. “He’s a Shimada alright. A sock puppet for those elderly bastards on their thrones,”  
_

_“Shh!” hisses the other servant. “Hold your tongue!”  
_

_“Look at him though! All he does is whatever they tell ‘im to and look out of the window otherwise. I feel sorry for his brother, he’s such a boring kid,”  
_

* * *

Somehow, McCree ropes him into a discussion about food and everyone’s chattering fades into the background when Ana flashes him a motherly smile. 

“You haven’t said what food you’re into,” she chuckles. “This lot too noisy for you?”

Hanzo’s hands rest upon his knees in the proper way, the way he was taught by his father and mother, and he wonders what she’ll think of him when he replies. His mind is weary and he’s slowly edging further to the fringes of the group the more time passes. Bastion’s flower sits pressed in a book in his room and he remembers with a secret smile.

“…I like ramen,” he answers, almost timid, painfully uncertain. “And hirata buns,”

Ana lights up and leans back a little in her chair. 

“Never heard of hirata buns,” she muses with a grin. “Are they good?”

With a jolt of surprise, he realises that she’s interested. 

She finds him interesting. 

He blinks and lets his breath catch in his throat before feeling something like giddy, razor-sharp validation for the first time in years.

“Very,” he nods, a little more confident. “They are best with korean beef,”

Ana starts to regal him with her own passions regarding food before they switch to art and Hanzo can’t remember the last time he felt included and safe like this, can’t remember someone asking him this many questions outside of an interrogation zone.

“Let’s cook together,” she offers suddenly. “You and me. You look like you could use a home-cooked meal or two anyway,”

Hanzo searches her face, her amber eye, for any traces of insincerity. 

Then he accepts with a shy smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, just some thoughts I had about Hanzo’s character. I dunno, hope this isn’t terrible anyway. Obviously this isn’t canon, lol.


End file.
